


Taking the Shot

by monimala



Series: You Can Always Go Downtown [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Gap Filler, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 05:47:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6361825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monimala/pseuds/monimala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She's wanted to sit on his face for days. Now she's getting her wish.</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Completely plotless scene in which Frank goes downtown like a pro.</p><p>I blame Sara Benincasa for this. Also The Punisher, because duh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking the Shot

Red would argue. He'd debate. He'd weigh the pros and cons and the fall-out. Frank's a doer. He doesn't believe in wasting time. So when he has pretty Miss Page on her back, with her skirt up around her tits, the only thing he uses his mouth for is making her scream. She gasps first, of course. Shocked that he rips off her underwear. Still babbling that “We shouldn't!” and “This is is wrong!” and “You're our client!” This last word rises up on a moan as he spreads her lips and begins to lick.

He's not ignoring her, not really. He's just listening to her body instead of her voice. Because she's wet, so fucking wet, and he loves it. He loves knowing she's been turned on since she walked into the holding room. Do-gooder. Crusader. Thinking she's connected with him because of Lisa and Frank, Jr. and everything he lost. Claiming she wants justice. Good intentions don't soak panties. Miss Page fucks herself on her fingers at night and thinks of all the things he can do to her, because it's not about saving him at all...it's about getting into the dark and the dirt with him.

“We can't. This is. Oh, God.” She's still talking, or trying to. All half-formed words and unfinished sentences. “Frank...I...”

He stops just long enough to look up at her, his chin already slick with her juices. “With all due respect, Ma'am, shut up.”

He pushes her thighs apart, fingers biting into her knees. She reaches for him, like she's going to shove him away, but then her palm just grips the back of his head. Urging him on. Atta girl. Don't deny it. Don't pretend. She's wanted to sit on his face for days. Now she's getting her wish, because he's on a mission, and he's not going anywhere just yet. He's got these precious stolen moments courtesy of a bleeding heart guard. And he's got the smell of her. The taste of her. Salty and needy.

Single-minded. Committed. Focused. That's what a sharpshooter has to be. That's what he's had to be. And he applies that focus to everything. Especially women. Frank's always had a thing for eating pussy. It's like taking the perfect shot. Lining everything up. Knowing just when to pull the trigger. You feel it when it all comes together. When she's right on the edge. He'd go down on his wife twice a day and three times on Sundays, and sometimes he thinks that Maria coming all over him is what he misses about her the most.

But now, today, right here, he has Miss Page. Karen. Her soft inner thighs and her damp blonde curls...did she shave them neat for her lawyer boyfriend, or for Frank? He doesn't care. He's got no problem burying himself in bush or bare skin as long as he can get her off. He noses the hard nub of her clit, fucks into her with his tongue...in and out until she's clawing at him, raking her nails across his nape and tugging at his ears. He won't stop till he's wrung every last breath and sob from her throat...and then he'll start all over again.

Her protests are just groans now. Animal noises and dirty words she'll never say in church. No more hiding. No more lies. Karen Page, public advocate, is giving him the truth. Her truth. His truth. So much goddamn honesty that he's drenched in it.

Frank's a doer. He doesn't believe in wasting time. So he makes her come twice in a row before the guard comes to take him back to jail. She scrambles off the desk and finds the shredded remains of her sexy date night panties. She tugs down her skirt, cheeks as red as his coveralls are orange. Worth it. He'll taste her all day. And she's going to feel him between her legs. Tonight, when she buzzes herself to bliss and rides three fingers and her thumb, she'll have more than just her imagination. She'll have the memory. The replay. She wanted to know what makes him tick, why everyone calls him The Punisher. Now she gets it.

Punishment is its own kind of reward.

 


End file.
